


Starstruck: an Adoring Fanfic

by SkarloteEdjj



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkarloteEdjj/pseuds/SkarloteEdjj
Summary: By Azura, by Azura, there she was! Standing right there, almost within arm's reach! This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and he wouldn't stand to miss it.





	1. Chapter 1

A bosmer boy fell to the ground in tears, and looked up sobbing at his assailants.

"Only four drakes!" A dark elf bully emptied a coinpurse into his hand. "You've been getting lazy!"

"I'd say so!" A nord boy had grabbed a twig and poked the bosmer's belly. "We gots us a soft boy!"

"Haha, you're fat!" The dark elf laughed. "And your hair looks stupid."

The bosmer scrambled to his feet and ran. The stinging tears blurred his vision. He ran away to the one place where bullies couldn't get to him: the arena. There, he could pretend he was one of the warriors in the pit. He could admire their strength, their ferocity. He used to study them for some sort of technique, some secret. But he soon learned that even the best training gave way to desperate instinct when your life is on the line.

And good instinct was just something he didn't have.

The seats were mostly empty this morning. It was only pit dogs battles scheduled on Mundas mornings. But in his opinion, some of the best battles were between the pit dogs. He could relate to them: trampled and disrespected. He could dream with them. Any one of these put dogs could rise through the ranks and become the next champion. Maybe even dethrone the gray prince.

And just as he was daydreaming of an underdog hero, there _she_ was.

_A/N: For years, I have let my stories go so early that I didn't even bother to post them. So I'm flexing my typing muscle and writing this trash pretty much stream-of-consciousness so that I can actually finish something. Please roast._


	2. Chapter 2

They called her The Beast. And it was quickly apparent why. She only accepted fights that were to the death. It was so bold, so brave. 

He put his elbows on the railing in the cheap seats, and rested his cheeks in his hands. He gazed dreamily at the girl below, who bashed her shield and snarled at a wizard foe. Her dark orcish skin glistened from the sweat and blood under the noonday sun. 

He only wished the seats could be closer. He'd never gotten the chance to get a good look at her. 

His room down at the waterfront soon filled with ticket stubs, betting ledgers, and posters. The artist couldn't quite capture her (as far as he could tell from so far away), and she was a small background detail among the more popular combatants displayed in the poster, but it was something. He even managed to catch some blood on a handkerchief after the fight with the twins. He'd nearly been caught by the guard when he sneaked in the pit that night. 

"And The Beast is again victorious!" the announcer roared, shaking him from his trance. "How far will she tear up the ranks?" 

The Beast roared, spreading her arms and throwing her head back as if soaking in the boos and cheers.

Weeks later, he heard the news he'd been waiting for.  She challenged the Yellow Team one last time for a championship.

He raced to the betting table and was face-to-face with Hundolin. Hundolin rolled his eyes. "Already, kid?"

The bosmer boy said nothing, plucking off his shoe and extracting 5 gold coins.

"You can just put those in the pot." Hundolin wrinkled his nose.

He smiled and tossed in his coin. He spun around, about to skip his merry way home, but instead slammed right into some large hard monolith that had apparated behind him.

"Oof!" He cried, landing hard on the ground. He rubbed his forehead and glanced up.

An orc girl peered at him down her short nose and snorted.

_By Azura, it was her!_

He gaped like a fish out of water. This was his first good look at her up close, but he could tell. Her arena raiment, her proud stance, and those large distinctly orcish braids that hugged the sides of her skull. Her pale blue eyes cut through him. 

"Move pipsqueak!" she bellowed. 

He crawled aside like a mud crab The Beast sauntered up to Hundolin. 

"No." Hundolin scowled up at her.

“You said it wasn’t against the rules.” She sneered. Her voice was gravelly, but haughty.

“It is now.” Hundolin puffed up his chest. “You already get your winnings. No need to bet on yourself.”

“Really, you got it changed for little old me?” She crossed her arms. Well-toned and glistening, the boy noticed.

“Here!” Hundolin dug out a book from behind the betting chest. He flipped through the pages and shoved it in her face. “You can see the amendment right here!”

She scanned it for a minute, then snorted. “You elves, using rules and regulations to look big. I thought your people were supposed to be cannibals!”

Hundolin went red in the face. “Unlike your kind, we act like civilly, like citizens of the empire around here. Now get!”

She laughed and sauntered off. Only now did the boy start to struggle to his wobbly feet.

‘Unbelievable!” Hundolin slammed his rule book shut, and glanced down at the boy. “If we were interested in those traditions, we’d be back in Valenwood, wouldn’t we?”

“She is...” He searched for the word.

“Bold?” Hundolin offered with a touch of sarcasm.

“Breathtaking...” The boy sighed.

 Hundolin shook his head, and began to pack up for the day.


	3. Chapter

"I know youse been keeping them coins in youse shoes, fatty!" The dark elf sneered.

 

The Nord shoved him to the ground and the two yanked off his shoes.

 

"Nothing?!" The Nord yelled, scowling at thee empty shoes.

 

"Youse got to have a hiding place!" The dark elf snatched the bosmer boy and yanked him up by the collar.

 

"I-I swear, I already spent it--!" He half-lied. For now, it was in Hundolin's safekeeping until the championship match was over.

 

"I know a hiding place." A familiar voice growled from behind the Nord, before he was lifted off the ground. "Let's check your ass!"

 

That one-liner needed some work and had some unfortunate implications, but who was he to complain? His champion-to-be was rescuing him!

 

"Run away!" the dark elf cried, fleeing and waving his hands over his head. 

 

The Beast pitched the Nord at the running dunmer, and the two bullies crashed to the ground. 

 

"Wow," the bosmer boy gasped. 

 

But his hero didn't stick around to check on him or even say hi. Instead, she guffawed, cracked her knuckles, and chased after the screaming pair. 

===

"This is unprecedented, folks! Is the Beast a no - show?" 

 

Her adoring fan sink in his seat. It was all his fault. If the guards had caught her pummelling this bullies, they would have gotten the wrong idea. The thought of her in prison made his eyes sting, and he blinked stay tears away. 

 

Her three opponents were caught between laughing and complaining. An orc, run away from a fight? 

 

A pounding cane from the gates where Porkchop scrambled restlessly. 

 

"Blue team's boar Porkchop is biting at the bit! Wait..." 

 

The fans looked at the gate from the announcement. 

 

Shouting came from the blood works. And then, the clanging of metal. 

 

The bosmer boy leapt to the railing and leaned dangerously far. Could it be? 

 

Bursting through the door, there she was! The orc girl, tailed by trio of guards. 

 

"Good people of Tamriel, The Beast delivers! And with a surprise, it seems! Lower the gates!" 

 

Her fan whooped like he never whooped before. Pounding on the railing. This was it!

 

The Beast ducked a blow from a guard and snatched his blade. Wrenching it from his hands, she swung the pommel at the archer combatant. 

 

" And already a Yellow Team fighter is down! These guards aren't slowing the beast one bit!" 

 

The archer had fallen, blood leaking from every facial orofice. The Beast was already swinging back to smash the pommel over a guards helmet and chest plate, stunning him. 

 

It was odd, seeing someone grip a sword backwards, swinging around the butt end like a war hammer, but he didn't love her for being conventional. "Get 'em , Beast!" he cried. 

 

She swooped the first-fighting dark elf, landing him on his back before sending the second guard into a wall. She spun to face the final guard, who retreated to the gate. 

 

Now it was down to her and the yellow team's champion, decked out in full Dwarven armor. 

 

She still gripped the sword backwards, sneering and laughing. 

 

The champion swung his Warhammer, and the beast blocked it with the middle of her stolen blade. 

 

The boy gasped. He could see the blood running from her palms down the blade. 

 

She kicked the champion. Dwemer armor didn't dent easily, but it was forceful enough to stun. The rattled champion loosened his Warhammer enough for the beast to slide it down he sword and into the dirt. 

 

Still griping the slippery red blade, she guided it through a small gap in the armor. 

 

The bosmer boy held his breath. 

 

Slowly, the yellow team champion sink to the ground a pool of blood growing underneath him. 

 

Waves of booing rumbled the arena, and she basked in it. The Beast tackling not one but three yellow team elites? Many fortunes were lost that day, but his was made. 

 

As she exited the arena and the shouting crowds dispersed, he decided to tarry for a few minutes; Porkchop still had the last guard lined against the wall and the others were just starting to come to. It was nothing like the spectacle that preceded this scene, but it was still a show. 

 

The blood soaking the ground had quickly gone brown, except for one strangely vibrant spot of red gleaming in the sun. In fact, it seemed to be framed in a touch of gold. 

 

Perhaps tonight would be good to steal another souvenir. 


	4. Chapter 4

On first glance, it looked impressive; in reality, it was a piece of junk. The blasted thing couldn't even stay on.

He shuffled through the dark empty streets; he knew how to move along unnoticed relatively well. Not once had he been mugged after dark. Daytime had always been a different story.

He gazed at it. It was a large jewel, probably a ruby, hung from what looked like a golden chain. He considered getting it appraised, but where it came from mattered much more than what it was, anyway.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him. As he turned around, he only saw the shadow of the arena, looming over him. 

Instinct assured him he was not alone though. Where were the guards? 

The market district was just up ahead. There had to be guards looking over the shops...

Of course, considering that he was an obvious commoner carrying a massive jewel in his pocket, this might be a terrible idea. 

His hesitation made the decision for him, as a shadowy figure blocked the archway to the district. 

"You have something that isn't yours, boy." a voice breathed on his neck. 

He jumped, and spun around, darting back. He was surrounded by three men in scarlet robes. 

Instinctively, he clutched the amulet in his pocket. 

"Hand it over, and you can forget this ever happened." the man behind him still whispered, but it felt like a roar. 

He stepped back. 

Sure, it was a piece of junk, but at this point it didn't matter. It was about his pride. He had pride, right?

When he did reach the conclusion that he had not only pride but dignity, he bolted.

The slapping of leather shoes on the stone paths crept behind him--closer and closer...

Then a loud succession of thuds, slaps and punches. By the time he'd turned around, he thought he'd also heard the snapping of bones, including the distinct sound of breaking necks. 

An old imperial stood above the scarlet hooded thugs, who now lay twitchiing on the ground. He wore a tattered beggar's rags, and his threadbare hood was down, displaying a ring of white hair around a dome that shone under the lamplight.

The bosmer boy stared at him in wonder, and gingerly stepped forward. "Thank you, sir!" He gasped.

The imperial didn't offer any "you're welcomes." Instead, he snatched the bosmer by the collar and pulled him in until their noses nearly touched.

"What were you doing with that amulet?" He hissed.

"I--uh..." he stammered. Seriously, what was he doing? Hoping to smoothly go up to his idol and say _oh here, you dropped this?_

"I...found it." He said truthfully. The imperial's lines carved into his face deepened.

"In the arena!" he clarified. "It was in the pit after the Beast's fight."

"The she-orc?" The imperial asked flatly, and the bosmer nodded.

"By Talos!" He groaned. "She took a detour to have a brawl?! Ugh, do you know where she went?"

Her fan shrugged.

"Well, I'll be taking that." The imperial held out his hand. "The head of my order will want to see this."

The bosmer recoiled, clutching the amulet to his chest.

"Do you even know what you're holding? Don't make me hurt you, kid." The imperial growled.

The boy stared down at the amulet in his palm. "You...you think you'll run into her?"

"If she can follow instructions eventually, then yes. Why?"

"Can..." he gulped. "Can I come with you, then?"

The imperial sighed, and stared a moment at the amulet. "If you give me the amulet, then sure. Just don't get in the way."

"Oh yes--I mean, oh no I won't, sir!"

The imperial snatched the amulet, and immediately went into a rapid stride. With a bit of struggling, the bosmer boy managed to keep up.

"I'm Stan, by the way." He panted. "What's your name?"

The imperial hesitated for a moment. "Caius. Caius Cosades."


	5. Chapter 5

My dearest brother,

I'm writing you in these difficult days with happy news! I have found our father's inheritance! Think what you will of me, but I do not begrudge this from you. I ask that you return home with haste so that -

"Do you mind?" Caius shielded the letter with his shoulder, and Stan reluctantly stepped back.

"Is it a coded message?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Why do you ask? And so loudly?" Caius glanced around the empty streets of the Talos district.

"I'm sorry." Stan whispered. "It's just, you're so good at fighting, and so secretive. Are you a spy? That would be so amazing!"

Caius scowled and returned to his letter.

Stan rocked on his toes. He had woken up this morning to stuff his last gold in his shoes to gamble on a dream. And now tonight, he was on a mysterious adventure with a seasoned fighter. He wondered how far he would venture from his terrible rundown hovel on the waterfront.

"Let's get moving." Caius muttered, shaking Stan from his daydreams. He held the folded letter, sealing it with a chewed piece of bread. He scribbled an address on the back.

He darted across the street to where a beggar slept beneath a pile of rags.

"Lilian," he hissed, shaking the dirty pile.

The lump groaned and slowly sat up to reveal the face of an old woman. "Caius? What time even is it?"

"Late," he admitted, shoving the letter in her hand. "Please get this to the black horse courier."

"You know they're not actual couriers, don' cha?" Lillian groaned.

"Tell them I sent you." He shoved a few gold coins in her hand as well. "Give this letter to them as soon as they open up."

"Fine, fine," she raised her eyebrows at the gold. "I'll keep it warm for ye and deliver it safe n' sound."

"You are as beautiful as Dibella herself, Lillian!" Caius beamed.

"Yeh, yeh." She buried her gold and the letter in her pile of rags, and collapsed back into a deep sleep.

Caius stepped back out into the street, trailed by his unlikely companion.

"Oh, you have a network?" Stan bounced on his toes.

"Will you at least button your lip till we're out of the city?" Caius growled.

Stan complied, and they snuck out the gates. He had practice sneaking around thanks to his midnight trips to the arena, but Caius was so masterful at stealth that he himself almost lost him.

Within minutes of crossing the stone bridge and running into the wilderness, Stan was already winded, and his feet were sore. With each footfall, he chanted to himself, "worth it, worth it, worth it..."

"Are you okay kid?" Caius muttered over his shoulder.

"Never-" he gasped in air "-been better in my life!"

Caius grunted.

They faced through the hills and fields til dawn, where they finally collapsed and called for the day.


	6. Chapter 6

_And here it is, what you guys have been waiting for! Buckle up and get a glass of milk, cause it's about to get spicy! Giving a shoutout to my husband for inspiring this scene (please don't ask how)._

 

Was it lipstick she wore, or the blood of her foes? He didn't care, sitting on the edge of the bed, slackjawed and clutching the silken sheets. 

 

She towered over him, dressed in revealing red battle raiment. Her quads rippled and her arms glistened. 

 

"So, I hear that puny elf likes them stronk!" her red lips curled over her orchish tusks. 

 

He nodded so fast his head rattled. "Yes, ma'am!" he whispered. 

 

She shoved him into his back. "Relax, pipsqueak." 

 

He couldn't if he wanted to. His heart raced and his bowels tensed; no false moves here. 

 

She turned around and bent over. He lifted his head to get a nice up skirt glance at her rock hard caboose, clad in leather. 

 

She stood up and turned around, holding a massive watermelon over her head. 

 

"I considered ripping a book, but I know puny elves like getting messy." 

 

He began to hyperventilate. Like a vice, her arms pressed on the watermelon. It began to creak. 

 

_Oh my_. 

 

She began to grunt, then roar, as the watermelon began to bulge.

 

She opened her mouth wide, baring her massive teeth and howling as the watermelon burst into a rain of red sticky chunks. 

 

CAW! CAW!

 

The cry of a crow shook him awake, he bolted up to a flurry of back wings retreating from him. 

 

"Oh, go fornicate yourselves!" he shouted at the birds, and slammed himself back on the ground. He'd now woken from the dream sunburnt and with a pounding head. It took him a moment to realize where he was, the soothing breeze brought him to his senses.

 

He was miles away from home, in the wilderness, with an old imperial man, on his way to some unknown destination. This probably should have concerned him, but the sudden return of adrenaline stole his sobriety. He was on an adventure! 

 

Caius had made himself busy : he trudged into their makeshift camp with four fresh rats hanging from his belt. "Breakfast?" he offered with a raised white eyebrow. 

 

It was only then that he felt his stomach boil dryly, begging for food. 

 

Caius chucked, and knelt by a rough stone firepit. He must have gathered wood and tinder as Stan slept. 

 

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he bolted upright. The pair began the work of skinning the rats and starting the fire. 

 

30 minutes later, they enjoyed their paupers' meals, biting crispy flesh from the roasted rats. 

 

"So," Caius studied his meal. "Why did you insist on tagging along?" 

 

Stan gulped down an unchewed bite. His decision to follow Caius had been impulsive. 

 

"I, uh..." 

 

"Look," Caius's brown eyes were sharp, and cut into Stan. "I'm a man of my word, and I'll let you tag along if that's still your choice, but I don't want to have another dead kid on my conscience." 

 

"I know, but there's nothing left for me back--wait 'another?'" 

 

Caius looked westward. "Sun's getting low, we'd better get moving soon." He went over to the fire, reached into his robe, and pulled out a skooma pipe.

 

"Woah! Woah!" Stan held up his hands.

 

"Look, I won't judge the kind of tail you're chasing, you don't judge me for my vices!" Caius scowled, drawing a lit twig from the fire and lighting the pipe.

 

He poured in the skooma, let it sit for a minute. The smell singed at Stan's nostrils, but Caius seemed to relish in the aroma before inhaling deeply.

 

Stan shook his head, and mentally prepared himself for another long night of running.


	7. Chapter 7

It took nearly a week to trek northward to Jerral mountains. Just how far would they go?

 

Stan's feet had gone sore, then bruised, then blistered, then briefly bloody. He dared not take his shoes off at this point, because he knew he wouldn't like his new feet.

 

He didn't know how long he'd been starting at the ground, when he walked right into Caius's back.

 

"Oof!" Stan fell back on his rump. "What--?"

 

He gazed up and the sky above Caius had gone an eerie red. Caius stood frozen. "Do you see that?" His voice shook.

 

Stan gingerly got to his feet.  Up ahead, he followed Caius's gaze to a strange ripple in the air, and the orange glow surrounding it.

 

"By the Nine Divines," Caius whispered, gazing at the rippling flames surrounding the stone apparatus. It was perhaps a mile off, but still far too close for comfort. Scorching winds reached Caius and Stan; it smelled of sulfur and rotting flesh.

 

"What is that thing?" Stan's voice trembled.

 

"It's the end of days."

 

* * *

 

Caius had taught Stan a thing or two about being light on your feet, but that scamp was one clever bastard. Pinned against the sheer cliffside, Stan let out an undignified squeak.

 

"Dammit," Caius muttered and stepped from behind the rock. Just in time, the scamp noticed Caius's movement and turned its head.

 

“Go back to your pit,” Caius snarled, snatching the thing’s tiny wrist, and twisting its arm back. The scamp could barely start screeching before Caius’s other hand reached over and wrung its neck.

 

“I’ve never seen a daedra before,” Stan whimpered.

 

Caius pursed his lips. "The barriers to Oblivion are falling." 

 

"But why, though?" Stan's wobbly legs made an effort to get his weight off the rock. 

 

"With the emperor dead--" 

 

"The emperor's dead?!" 

 

Caius stared at the bosmer kid in slight disbelief for a moment, then shook his head. 

 

"Anyway, the barriers between us and oblivion are dissolving faster than I thought. This is not good. " 

* * *

 

"Alright, here we are!" Caius pointed at the large building at the top of the road. "Cloud Ruler Temple."

 

"Wow!" Stan had never seen architecture quite like it: Stone walls, finely sculpted wooden accents, and sharp angular edges. It was beautiful.

 

They'd been looking so intently, that they nearly missed the horse bolting around the corner.

 

"Woah!" Stan cried, nearly trampled by the thing.

 

"Ugh!" A familiar voice grumbled from atop the horse.

 

Stan's eyes popped open, and he scrambled to his feet.

 

"Wait!" He called out, running forward just to get a glimpse of his Beast, riding gracefully on that horse down the mountain, her braids blowing in the breeze.

 

He'd missed her.

 

His hand and his shoulders dropped. All that walking, running, fighting rats, and dodging demons. He'd climbed literal mountains for her, and she just slipped away.

 

"Hey kid," Caius clapped a hand on Stan's shoulder. "Let's get up there. I'm sure she'll be back."

 

They marched through the heavy doors and past the stone walls. 

 

"Wow," his eyes went wide setting the temple up close. It was huge and exotic, and beautiful. Much like his champion. 

 

"Alright, kid..." Caius grabbed his elbow and guided him to the double doors. 

 

The brisk mountain air retreated from the warmth that radiated from the hall. Armored men and women paced around the tables, eating and speaking in hushed tones. A man in priestly robes stared intensely at his book, surrounded by piles of more. 

 

One of the armored men (a soldier? A guard?) made a double take at Caius.

 

Caius waved. "Did Jaffrey make it?" 

 

"He's in his quarters." The man said stiffly. For someone so poised and elite, he seemed uncertain about Stan's odd companion. And the way his eyes flickered towards Stan, he was staring to feel uncertain himself. "He not to be disturbed." 

 

"Please," Caius clapped a hand on the man's paldron. "Tell him I have that present I wrote him about." 

 

Stan's head bobbed between the two imperials. 

 

The man threw them both an apprehensive stare, and strode towards the quarters. 

 

* * *

 

   This grandmaster was slightly smaller than Caius, and though it was difficult to tell under the armor, Stan was sure that he didn't have quite the hulking build that Caius boasted.

 

Otherwise, these humans looked identical. By golly, they aged horribly; say what you will about elven hairlines, but at least those stay put.  

 

"Little guy found the amulet, right in the arena pit. And just in the nick of time before the Mythic Dawn did," Caius ruffled Stan's yellow hair. "He wanted to tag along, and I suppose we could make him useful around here." 

 

It did sound exciting, but Stan was starting to wander what he was really getting himself into. 

 

Jauffrey peered down at Stan, who could only shrink. "What have you told him?"

 

"Nothing yet," a mocking tone colored the edge of Caius's voice. "Don't worry, I'm deferring to your wisdom, Grand Master." 

 

Jauffrey shot him a scowl. "We'll discuss this later. Just give me the amulet."

 

Caius shrugged and reached into his pocket. His large fingers emerged from the bottom of the pocket and he froze.

 

Jauffrey's stare hardened. "Caius..."

 

Caius looked up at him like a guilty child, wiggling his fingers through the hole. He patted himself in absent hope that the amulet was stored in some other pocket, but no. 

 

It was gone. 


	8. Chapter 8

There was an eruption in Cloud Ruler Temple, and some guards had shuffled Stan back into the great hall. Little good that did, as the walls were literally paper.

 

The priest peered over his shoulder in the direction of the shouting match, lips pursed. When the front door slammed open, he glanced at it and immediately retreated into his book.

 

Stan turned and like an angel surrounded the godrays streaming in from the brisk afternoon, she stood proud in the doorway, tailed by a winded man in that same armor.

 

"So fine, where is he?" she marched right past Stan and barreled into the quarters.  Stan dared to follow. She darted through the halls and threw open a sliding paper wall.

 

Jauffrey scowled at her. "And you! You were trusted with the amulet of kings in exchange for your freedom, and what do you do? Immediately drop it in some brawl!" 

 

"Championship. Fans would literally rather see the world end then have me not show up." 

 

Jauffre went red. "Is this a joke to you??" 

 

She grunted, and he scoffed.

 

He dug through the chest for a moment, then finally extracted a round piece of glass. "Take this, it's enchanted with a spell to detect enchantments. Don't lose it." He scowled at the beast. 

 

She snorted and grabbed it, the glass had a chain hanging from it, and Stan realized that it was a monocle. So did the Beast, apparently, as she wrinkled her nose at it. 

 

"Meanwhile, Caius, meet up with Barus back in the Elven Gardens district. I believe he has a lead into infiltrating the cult that murdered the emperor." 

 

Caius cleared his throat. "Before I go gathering intel," he stared pointedly at his leader. "Perhaps you would be interested in what I've already gathered, now that our emperor is dead."

 

"Really now," Jauffrey spat. "We all know how hard you've been... 'working' since you've been back in Cyrodill." 

 

Caius shrugged and held up his hands. "About a hard as I worked in Morrowind." 

 

Jauffre studied him sternly. "So it would seem." 

 

"My oh my," Caius crossed his arms. "Was that an insinuating little retort? Where oh where did our esteemed Grand Master learn to do such a thing?"

 

"This isn't grandmother Dana's, Caius. You're not going to pick a fight and get a rise out of me."

 

"As if I ever picked a fight, or had the need to." 

 

The two men suddenly remembered their audience: the adolescent orc and wood elf stood gaping awkwardly at this family squabble. 

 

Jauffre cleared his throat and addressed the beast. "Yes, anyhow, this glass. Use it to search for the amulet." 

 

The beast grunted, and spun on her heels. 

 

Stan quivered like a leaf and tried to clear his throat, but yet again she just barreled right past him. 

 

Caius did clear his throat, staring pointedly at Stan and gesturing his gleaming head towards the retreating orc. 

 

Stan found himself shaking his head. But why? What in oblivion was freezing him in place like this? 

 

Caius rolled his eyes, grabbed Stan's sleeve, and dragged him down to the lower quarters. 

 

"Kid, you've been bugging me for the past week, going after this...girl." Caius seemed uncertain about defining her as such. "Go the hell after her!" 

 

"B-but..." it took him a whole week too long to realize what he was doing, and only when he actually faced her did he realize just how nuts he must seem. He could be charitably described as an enthusiastic adoring fan. Less charitably, a weird obsessed stalker. 

 

When he found the words to tell Caius the man massaged his temples. "I'm not your fairy godmother, and I'm too tired to come up with some cure for your cold feet. I have crucial imperial business to attend to. If you wanna be an apprentice, I can make you useful. Otherwise, get your prize or go home." 

 

Stan's decision, however, has already been made. 


End file.
